Damn it, I’m so late. It is so late. Discipline matters, people. Especially for those who struggle with it - mhm yeah, like me. It’s almost 8pm and I’ve just got home. Way past my curfew. The one I installed to make sure I’d write a Judas post, ya know? I’m late because, wait, do I even have an excuse? I snoozed on the way back, after taking a hard hit eating some insane pastry at the Armory. Oh right, that’s it. The Armory Show. So I do have some good stuff to share as a result. When I saw the snow storm, two choices appeared to me: I make insane shit up, and no one will notice, or, I do go, gather some info, and report back. Technically, there’s no way for you to know which option I went for. But lying requires such an effort, and I am so lazy today. Or maybe it’s the chocolate babka. By Breads Bakery, 2015. Ya, my favorite piece of the entire modern and contemporary sections. Same piece as last year. That fucking crazy heavy yet heavenly addictive brioche thing. That’s what I remembered from last year’s selection. And the one reason I went back again - other than to carefully listen to other people’s conversations. We say hello to Audrey (hello Audrey!), then go head first to the modern section.

Wait. Are we in the modern section? Why does it say MODERN everywhere, to then confuse me with a plethora of Julian Opie’s? Is it because a booth is cheaper in the modern section that contemporary artists are exhibited where they don’t belong? I must definitely be high on something at this point, ‘cause I see a Scott Campbell now. I did say before (a couple of posts ago) that should you pay attention, you’ll hear the BEST SHIT at the Armory. I’m not sure if today was particularly rich or if I was making myself more available than usual… Let me tell you something. Some people do really walk up to a gallerina (swear I heard that once, at the Yale club, ‘cause where else?) and ask: « How much is that? » It went like this. She responded, looking at the Robert Indiana: « 64. » We don’t say thousand or million in the art world, you should know which category the work falls under before even asking. Him again: « Do you have smaller ones? And other colors? » Yes. This really happens. It did 2 hours ago, as I was ear dropping, while taking a photo of a huge yellow-toned Baselitz. I thought it might look good on my insta feed. It’s good to have options, you know. The Italians are good too. Always a pleasure to hear them talk to folks older and richer than your parents’ richest friends. The only thing that matters, is explaining to them what type of investment they will be making by buying this one at 300, vs. this one at 70. Well I mean, « This one is dead. This is a different artist. The God is Fontana. » They don’t even bother to make sentences related to one another. What else happened? Oh yeah, I’m also super good at seeing typos. It’s kind of a curse, if you ask me. It gets me so worked up. It appears that in Sao Paolo, it is a-okay to write on a work description that it’s a « gouche on paper. » In French, if you change one letter after you already skipped the « a », you have « couche.» Like, « voulez-vous coucher avec moi » Remember? Yeah. I do. So, regardless of the language you speak, a gouache is a gouache is a gouache. We cool? Ok who’s next? I don’t know, I’m already exhausted. I did stare at that other « gallerina », touching this guy’s black Birkin before saying to him: « Oh it’s so big. So beautiful. » Had he not been gay, I’m sure he would have been flattered in a whole other way. But then again, he probably wouldn’t be carrying an Hermes bag the size of…me. The one thing that doesn’t get nearly enough credit at fairs, is the craftsmanship. Like, you know, flooring, and lighting, and else. Good news is, this year, someone noticed. And spoke up. « Your booth is so nice! I remember the floor last year was linoleum. This is nice too, the wood like this. » Oh dear Lord. Please have mercy on me.

Ok ok, bitching is always very entertaining, we can all agree. Ya, don’t you pretend. But there were three great works worth my going. A series of abstract monotypes by Zarina Hashmi, black ink and gold leaf on a handmade Indian paper. And no, I didn’t just like them because I have just release a series of black abstract monotypes by Paolo Canevari. There was a Warhol too, made of urine, metallic pigment and acrylic with diamond dust on canvas. The work is dated 1978 and entitled Diamond Dust Oxidation Painting. I’ve (we all have) pretty much seen every Warhol there is to see. Yet, this one was a major surprise. And then a Romare Bearden from 1971, Junction Piquette. A large scale fabric collage on canvas. Hey, not my fault if two outa three were classified « modern. »

Three pieces I had never seen before. Unlike that Louise Bourgeois « He disappeared into complete silence », which I have seen at the fair at least thrice, one year after the other. It feels like time isn’t moving forward. It’s kinda magical if you think about it. Maybe that’s why the Armory is so important. They fucking stopped time. I unveiled their genius move when I got to that faraway crooked booth, on the right all the way at the end. Take Metro Pictures, and go straight. It’s a fucking time warp! I am exactly back to a year ago! The same booths, presenting the same artists, presenting (ok, almost) the same works. In the case of Sean Kelly, it was the same Callum Innes painting. But let’s not split hairs. At that point I almost fainted, and I’m pretty sure it’s part of their scientific game. If you do come to realize time has frozen, you pass out, and then people can blame your crazy insinuation onto a low sugar intake.

Ok, more than three artworks. But three sounds so good. Like, once, twice, thrice. It got rhythm.